


hes growing up before your very fucking eyes

by maternaljoke



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, MCC - Freeform, Minecraft championships, Minecraft physics, Minor Violence, Temporary Character Death, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, im sorry, in which i make mcc angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke
Summary: There’s a pause. Footsteps recede down the alleyway, and the larger of the two shadows dissipate into the cold sunlight.Tubbo lets out a breath of relief.“You really should be more careful, Tubs.”Cold air churns in his chest, tightening the knot in his throat, and he looks up with shaky, stinging eyes.“Fuck off, Toms.”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 248





	hes growing up before your very fucking eyes

**Author's Note:**

> they turn the light on  
> and its burning up the sky  
> poor george  
> you can kill him  
> but youll never kill his pride  
> momma told him right from wrong  
> how to love  
> and how to talk  
> poor george  
> poor george  
> never learned how to stop  
> ======  
> poor george - james supercave

There’s yelling.

Fire licks and burns around him. The asphalt burns under his feet, bubbling under the outer layer. The sky is a dense mess of grey and white clouds, and snow stains the sides of Tubbo’s costume with water and cold embers.

The tips of his fingers bleed due to the strain of the bow string. From the side of him, a dirty blond slows to a stop, his lips parted in a strained pant and his eyes hidden by a dirtied mask. A brunette and familiar kitsune are soon to join him, the four huddled together in the center of the road, an exclamation point of blinding lime. 

Sylvee squints from under her hood. One of the llama ears is torn off, stitching scruffy and popping out from the seams.

“I think we lost them. Calvin and Techno left to chase after the yaks.”

“Finn and Spifey?”

“I saw them.” From the other side of Tubbo, Fundy speaks up. “Finn’s dead, I think. Spifey got split up, ran into some alleyway.”

“Why didn’t you try to chase after him?” Dreams face scrunches up slightly, though his expression is difficult to read under his mask. Tubbo wishes he’d get rid of it already.

“Cobwebs. It wouldn’t have been worth it, especially with Techno on my tail.”

Dream scoffs but doesn’t say anything else. “We need to find cover and heal up. The border’s going to be closing in soon.” He doesn’t wait for them to properly catch their breath, bumping Tubbo out of the way with his shoulder and heading down towards an overarching alley.

Tubbo goes to follow him when an arm stretches out in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. Fundy, Dream-”

Sylvee’s cut off by the explosion.

* * *

The snow is thankfully thin, melted down to slush by burning sky and fire and padded down by the footsteps of those now dead.

The fire flares and bursts around his, charring against worn brick and heating the asphalt under his feet. 

Tubbo swerves on his heels and fires an arrow at his pursuer. A blond with hair falling to his shoulders, metal and plaster rabbit mask covering his face and hiding any sign of life. It’s upturned rosy cheeks taunt Tubbo, beady eyes glinting with malice.

The figure manages to skirt to the side, the arrow just grazing his shoulder but otherwise leaving him uninjured. Tubbo swallows the nervous lump forming in the pit of his throat, adding to the nervous vomit churning in his gut.

The figure quickly restabilizes and looks up. The ebony eyes of the mask stare back at him, burning like cold soul fire into a cramp, hollow chest.

Tubbo runs. His footsteps echo through the alleyway, bouncing against the looming brick walls, and he swivels to the side to sloppily duck behind a dumpster. He curls among the lumpy black garbage bags piled alongside it, bits of glass and plastic poking out from the sides and into his own. 

He sets his bow to sit against the wall behind a bag and curls into as tight of a ball as he can, limbs beginning to shake in terror as footsteps slowly knock through the alley. Clicking and formal, shined loafers against thankfully snowless concrete, melted by ash and heat. 

Tubbo holds his breath, refusing to risk an exhale in the painful silence. 

A shadow stretches across the ground. Silent tears fall from Tubbo’s eyes, cold and burning. 

He wants to just tear the pulsing organs out with chipped fingernails, get the harsh stinging pain to _stop_.

They don’t. The shadow, however, does.

“Phil!”

_What?_

The head of the shadow shifts.

Another shadow joins him. This one is smaller, with shorter hair and holding some sort of longsword rather than an axe. Tubbo can see it’s tint of enchanted purple stretch along the ground, flickering and swirling.

“Tommy?” A voice rings out. Tubbo lets himself take a quick breath as he speaks. 

Then he pauses.

_Tommy?_

“Phil, we lost Fundy and Dream.”

“What? What about Sylvee?”

“Scott got her. Here, I have a better axe for you.”

There’s shuffling. The shadows continue to shift, casual, albeit tense. Tubbo’s tongue pushes against the roof of his mouth, threatening to leave a bruise. If that’s even possible. He isn’t sure.

“I saw Tubbo run through here—”

“He must’ve escaped then. I saw him on the street a minute ago regrouping with Fundy before he and Dream got away.”

“What, but that’s… that’s impossible.”

It was. Tubbo didn’t dare move other than unconscious shaking, knuckles white against his legs and shoulders so tense they felt ready to pop off. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

“How so?”

“I— I didn’t see him—”

“Maybe it’s the mask. Is it too small? Constricting your vision at all?” There's the tiniest hint of amusement lacing Tommy’s voice, barely audible. 

“I… I mean, a little.”

“Go trade with Wil. He’s over by where you set off the explosion, was complaining his is too big. I’ll check and make sure there’s no leftover loot around here and regroup with you guys.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps recede down the alleyway, and the larger of the two shadows dissipate into the cold sunlight.

Tubbo lets out a breath of relief.

“You really should be more careful, Tubs.”

Cold air churns in his chest, tightening the knot in his throat, and he looks up with shaky, stinging eyes.

“Fuck off, Toms.”

Tommy huffs out a small laugh. Sheaths his sword and folds his hands behind his back. “Don’t get comfortable. I’ll only spare you this once, yeah?”

Tubbo nods. He shakily stands, legs feeling thin and painfully numb, twigs ready to crack under the thumb of a sadistic flame.

“Hey, uh.” Tommy hums questionably. “Thanks. For stopping Phil. You didn’t have to. You could get banned if the moderators found out.”

“Like I said, it’s a one-time thing. Don’t get used to it, Bitch Boy.”

Tubbo snorts out a small laugh. 

Even under the mask, he can tell Tommy’s smiling too.

* * *

It’s loud. 

Swords slash and arrows whiz in the air, blood stains stamping snow red and pink. 

Fire burns around the border and in the sky, clouds alight in brown and red and the sky a dusky white.

Above him, Tommy frowns. He looks much too old for a sixteen-year-old, hollowed lines around his cheeks and a deep frown creasing his face. His mask is still there, though lifted up to reveal the glistening of unshed tears, threatening to mix with the dirt and blood on his face.

“I told you not to get used to it, Tubbo.”

Tubbo’s eyes widen.

“Tom—!”

And he falls. His body slams into Tubbo’s, legs collapsing under themselves and sword clattering to the ground.

Tubbo’s frozen in place as Tommy lifts himself up with his arms, shaky and weak. 

From his chest, blood spills, pooling from the hole left by an arrow, tinted with bubbling dark purple at the tip and intermixed with boiling copper.

“Tub—”

Tommy bursts into a cloud of smoke and scattered items. String, armor, apples and chipped weapons litter the snow surrounding him.

Above him, a bright lime figure stands, mask long abandoned and hood painting shadows over his face. Despite the darkness, Tubbo can easily make out the piercing glee in his eyes.

“There was always something about him I never really liked.”

Above them, the sky burns a bright green.

**LIME LLAMAS WIN THE HUNGER GAMES!**

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter at [@wilbursand](https://twitter.com/wilbursand)
> 
> this was just a warmup i was particularily proud of and decided to clean up and post. i wanna make it clear that these are minecraft physics! no ccs are actually dying, i dont really like that kinda stuff, it feels weird since theyre real people and all that.
> 
> EDIT 1/3/21: fixed tubbos name and pronouns. also some minor edits, nothing important, just made a few sentences flow better.


End file.
